Witch-hunt
by Someone aka Me
Summary: Rabastan Lestrange accidentally makes an enemy out of Abigail Williams. He isn't the only one who has to deal with the fallout. HP/Crucible crossover.


For Gamma and her muse, from Harry and Clara.

Also, Gamma darling, this is your terribly late birthday present. My apologies.

.

It was an accident.

Really, it was.

He just… got so angry.

He was twelve and he should've been able to control his magic but he'd never been very talented and it sort of just… happened.

She was sitting there, that stupid girl, seventeen and already the whole town wrapped around her pretty little finger. She was talking about Rodolphus, about "those freaky Lestranges", and he just got… angry.

He only shoved her a little bit, just enough to push her off the stool and onto the floor. He never actually touched her, though, and that was the problem. And the other girls laughed at Abigail, and she didn't take well to that. Her head snapped up, and she locked her eyes on his, and she _knew_.

Rabastan fled.

.

He couldn't flee an idea, though, and Abigail knew. So he went to the one place he ever felt safe.

Rodolphus was furious, of course. Rabastan had put them both in danger with his mistake.

But eventually the anger burned out and worry took its place. "You must hide, Rabastan."

.

The woods were lonely, but safer than any place in the village or town with Abigail Williams after him. She was shameless and relentless, and Rabastan had embarrassed her. He would pay, if she ever got ahold of him. Rodolphus gave him his wand and dropped off food every other day in a basket near a distinctive boulder.

Rabastan was grateful for it. It was more than his parents would do. Rodolphus had told them, and their response had been nothing more than to shrug and say that at least it wasn't Rodolphus.

Rod had barely stopped himself from punching someone, but he didn't mention that part to Rabastan. He suspected Rab already knew.

.

Less than a month later, Rabastan stopped by the tree to pick up his basket only to find it wasn't there. His first thoughts were for his brother — was Rodolphus all right? Had something happened?

A twig snapped behind him, and Rabastan whirled around. And there she was.

"Well, well. Rabastan Lestrange."

"Abigail," Rabastan said, trying to keep his voice cool and barely managing not to stutter.

Calculatedly, she took a bite out of an apple she plucked out of the basket in her hands. "You didn't really think you could run from me forever, did you?"

Rabastan swallowed.

"Who says I'm running?"

"Oh, no. Silly me. You must just _love_ living in the woods like an animal. Letting your precious brother bring you food, do all the work. Cover for you. And why does he try so hard to cover for you, Rabastan? Is he a witch too? Covering his own tracks?"

"Don't you touch him!" Rabastan yelled, lunging forward. Abigail stepped lightly aside.

"Touchy subject, I see," she said primly. "But then, your family always was a bit odd." She smiled. It held no joy, only cruelty. "You crossed me, Rabastan. It doesn't do to cross me. Can't you see who holds the power in this town?"

"Your rein will crumble, Abigail."

"Perhaps it will, eventually. All things do. But you, Rabastan, you will not escape before it does."

She stepped carefully forward. "You will come back to town."

"No, I won't."

"You will. Or I'll accuse that precious brother of yours of witchcraft."

Rabastan froze. "You can't do that. Your quarrel is with me, Abigail!"

"Yes, well. I don't _want_ to involve Rodolphus. It'd be a pity, really — he's not half bad looking, actually. But I will, if you force my hand."

And with that, she walked primly out of the forest, his basket still in her hands.

Rabastan had never felt more intimidated in his life.

.

Rodolphus would kill him if he returned. Abigail would _literally_ kill him if he returned. But it didn't matter, because if he didn't, Rodolphus would be forced out of town — or even killed. Burnings had been easy to avoid, it was said. Hangings were much more difficult. The neck was fragile, even with reinforcement spells. An illusion of that size was impossible to sustain for the duration of the hanging. A duplicate would never hold. Vanishing was… bound to get one in trouble with their own authorities. They didn't really appreciate it when people proved the Muggles right and vanished from their own hangings.

So really, it was an easy decision. Rabastan wasn't going to let Rodolphus die for him.

.

He practiced the enchantments that would soften the fall, that would make him appear dead, anything that could keep him alive. But he was twelve. He was twelve and he'd never been much good at magic and he was always ill and living in the forest hadn't helped and… He didn't have much hope. But he didn't dare delay much longer.

He walked out of the forest like… well, like a man walking to the gallows.

Abigail was practically waiting for him. She went through her whole act, screaming and convulsing and Rabastan just stood there, staring at her, wondering how so much cruelty could fit into one body. Wondering how no one seemed to see it but those she victimised.

Men grabbed his arms, pulled them roughly behind his back. Rabastan heard his shoulder pop. Pain welled up as he was shoved toward the cells. He closed his eyes. The smell welled up, the smell of death and decay and feces, the smell of people who lived out the end of their lives in this tiny little cage, all because they had made the wrong enemy. Rabastan wanted to cry.

But he didn't. He was shoved into a cell, the door locked. He sucked in a deep breath — through his mouth, to temper the stench — and wondered how long it would take word to spread to Rodolphus.

.

"What the hell, Rabastan?"

"I'm sorry."

"No, seriously, what the hell?"

Rabastan shrugs. "She told me that if I didn't come back, she'd accuse you instead."

Rodolphus sighs, almost brokenly. "You _fool_." He rests his head against the bars. "I could've protected myself."

"You could've died, Rod. I wasn't going to let that happen."

"Do you think I want to watch it happen to you? Rab, you know what it takes to survive this. I don't… God, you _idiot_."

"I'm sorry, all right?" Rabastan all but yells, voice still at a whisper — but only just. "I'm sorry I care too much. I always have, all right, but if this is the last thing I do, Rod, I'm going to do it."

"No. You aren't."

"What?"

Rodolphus raises his head, looks at Rabastan with steady, determined eyes. "No, you aren't. We're leaving, all right? We're leaving right now. I don't give a damn about any Statute of Secrecy, not when it's you that could die for it."

"Rod…"

Rodolphus just shakes his head. "Shut your mouth, Rabastan." He glances both ways down the corridor, then taps Rab's head to charm him nearly invisible. He taps the bars, pulls Rabastan through them, then taps them again. "Stay behind me, no more than one step. Quiet."

They walk out. Rodolphus grips Rabastan's wrist tightly in his the moment they are out of sight, squeezes tightly, and with a pop, the Lestrange boys are gone.

Neither one of them ever regrets the loss of Salem, Massachusetts.


End file.
